


my first kiss went a little like this

by cambion



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:34:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cambion/pseuds/cambion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider's first kiss was when he was fourteen, and he remembers it a lot more clearly than he'd like to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my first kiss went a little like this

Your first kiss was when you were fourteen, and you remember it a lot more clearly than you'd like to admit.

It was about 2 in the morning, and you and the girls were all having a sleepover. You remember John being in a panic that as you got older, his dad would stop letting him spend the night with the other half of your tight-knit friend group, but as he got older he decided to just stop telling him - the other three of your parental units weren't nearly responsible enough to care, especially not Ms. Lalonde, who turned the blind eye as all three of you packed into Rose's spacious home. 

So, 2 in the morning (your mind has a habit of getting sidetracked, and this is apparent even when you speak, rambling on tangents that nowhere near get your points across), and hopped up on ridiculous movies and adolescence begging for more scandalous habits that your innocence begged to not be quite into just yet. Giggles and chuckles and outright roaring laughter filtered throughout the evening, stupid playfights, the whole shebang while hoping to not wake the snoring Ms. Lalonde who laid asleep in a drunken stupor just in the living room.

Your first kiss came while laughing and joking about your libidos, about first kisses, about some way that seemed clever to you at the moment to get out of saying you'd never been kissed before - because well, then you'd been kissed. You remember John's eyes widening, Rose laughing into her hands as she whispered "Finally", and Jade being startled but pleased as she watched the moment unfold. 

John kissed back though, so you really didn't care about much else.

Your second, third, fourth, fiftieth kiss - they all blurred thereafter. Somehow you both knew that night that it wouldn't stop there, and you didn't have to discuss it (you didn't want to discuss it). It was usually with the group of you all around, and the girls didn't seem to mind (dabbling in the experimentation with one another on occasion as well), though it sometimes was alone. As the time went on it became more of the long-anticipated make-outs, steamy and with hands running all over one another. He teased you when you got too into it, but it was comfortable, and when Jade helped straighten out his clothes afterward he'd grin and scratch the back of his head. You really liked seeing him that happy, so you'd zone out until Rose straightened out your clothes a bit too tightly and you winced, making some half-hearted angry remark at how she didn't have to be so rough just then, she could save it for later that night and then she'd hit you again, or maybe about how she wasn't his mother, she should cut it out. John just laughed again (looking so damn happy) when Rose commented on the drool on your chin. You scoffed, and she said it was a pout, but that was bullshit (it wasn't).

Your hundreds of kisses were like that, just brief, fun, sometimes teasing at your hormones too much. But that was it, that was all. 

The kiss number is somewhere in the thousands when he's on your bed on a Tuesday afternoon after school, your hands tangled in that dark mess of hair while your shades are folded on the side of the bed along with his glasses, and somewhere in the mess of lips you breathe, "I love you."

Time stops, and his eyes snap open, and your breathing takes a halt. "What'd you say?"

"Huh?" you manage, so clever - so caught off guard because what the fuck you don't even register what ?you ?just said. "I didn't say shit Egbert, you're hearing things." Normally you'd go on some ramble, some analogy to emphasize your point and maybe make him laugh, but you have more important things to do as you lean forward and try to take his lips in with yours once more.

He's having none of that though as he pulls back, hands resting on the bed instead of around you (god dammit). "No, I definitely heard something. Say it again." And you can't really read the look on his face as well as you'd like, because he's just furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lip, those slightly tinted teeth nibbling... nervously? You think? 

"I didn't say shit, I told you," you repeat, and you can feel your eyes squinting out of place and your cheeks flaring and your jaw locking at an awkward angle. Because you just told your best friend you love him, you just told the guy you sort of casualy kiss but that's it that you love him.

You love him.

And you shouldn't have said anything.

Time is crawling past you as if it's an old man fallen to the ground, but it's slowly standing and making its way to a steady pace once more when his nervous look (or whatever it was) softens, and he laughs, and he slides his arms around you again. "I love you too, dumbass," he says, and he sounds like a weight just lifted from his chest, his tone losing a restraint that you don't think either of you knew had been there previously. "Chill out, alright?"

And then he kisses you again, and you think whatever ridiculous number kiss that is is the most important.


End file.
